


Find The Light In You

by kisae



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Depression, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Levi In A Suit, M/M, POV First Person, Past Drug Use, Romance, Slow Build, cook!eren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-11 19:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisae/pseuds/kisae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were like sun and moon, complete opposites and never meant to meet. Yet eclipses are bound to happen and things change. Eren, bright and happy, as the sun itslef and Levi, dark and mysterious as the moon, find out that they have more in common than they originally thought. After all, even if both of them have their own lights, be it vivid or dim, they also have their own secrets. All they have to do is open up to each other, accept each other help; but it's not that easy. They had long learned not to trust anyone. And it gets incredibly difficult to not trust someone when you see yourself falling for them. It's as if destiny likes to play with their lives. Literally.</p><p>I suck at summaries, sorry ^^" But please give it a shot, it's not that bad~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Hello folks~!  
> This is my very first time writing in Levi's POV and even though I know his personality, it's damn difficult to do it right, so I'll apologise in advance if it gets to OOC -_-"  
> But I hope you guys like this, because I pretty much loved writing this first chapter. I'm thinking of alternate between Levi's and Eren's POV, but I'm not sure yet. And about updates, I don't know how it'll work for now, but I'll try to get a new chapter every week. But I can't promise anything since I have tests every goddamn day and I have to study, so, yeah, it sucks. Let's see how it'll go, though.  
> Please enjoy reading this long ass first chapter, and I'm sorry if you get bored...  
> And a huge thanks to EVERYBODY who leaves Kudos and comments!! I'm not always able to answer them, but I sure as hell love to read them XD  
> I'll see you guys on the next chapie~~ (Let's get some Eren POV done, wohhoooo~!!)
> 
>  
> 
> This was not Beta'd, and I barely know what I wrote since it's almost 3am, so there might be a big amount of errors. Sorry~~ I'll read it over later and see if I find anything too wrong.

After 28 years of thoughtful living, I concluded that life is a hell of a shit loaded sack. 

And no, don’t even think about saying that I don’t know anything – that 28 years are nothing when a human being can live up to 80 or more. That 28 year are nothing compared to the period of history; that 28 years don’t bring you the knowledge of an elderly person (“ _You’re young, you don’t know what you’re saying_ ”, yeah, okay, do me a favor and shove it right up your ass, would you?). That twenty-eight years just aren’t enough to conclude _anything at all_. I’ve lived much more in 28 years than someone has in 60. I’ve seen both sides of the coin; I’ve seen heaven and hell on earth and I’ve seen how cruel the world is. I’m not ignorant like most people are; I do not believe in a lovey-dovey life because I _know_ what reality is like, because I know that a happy life doesn’t exist. It’s all an illusion: _people see what they want to see_. 

Everything is boring, everything is dull, everything is dirty, everything is gross, everything is the same day after day and simply not worth it. You’re just another one in a species of almost eight billion individuals, and no matter how much you try, no matter how big and influent your status in society is, you just don’t change the world. And if you do, it’s only a question of time until they forget whoever you were or someone else comes, stepping over your name as if stepping over a doormat. All in all, it sucks.

If any other person looked at me right now, watching as I unlocked my shining black BMW i8, they’d think it’s ironic for me to be complaining about life, to conclude that it’s a sack of shit. If they saw my current life style they’d think I’m insane for complaining about anything. But there’s the point: _current_ is the key word. I may have a fucking awesome car, a five stars apartment, a golden credit card and a closet full of the finest Armani suits, but it wasn’t always like this. It’s not like I was born rich – because yes, I’m goddamn rich now, practically sitting over a mountain of cash – but I saw what I wished I had not seen; I saw the other side of the coin. The dark alleys and the dirty paths. I saw the underworld, where drugs are handled and used like water; where corruption is the way of dictation, where fights are constant and dead bodies are just dead bodies – there’s no funeral, no flowers and no one mourning your passage, you’re just dead. The sound of gunshots are so normal that no one turns around and cares about the victim. It’s just another dead body, a wallet more, a sack of cocaine or marijuana more. The package of cigarettes is a bonus. 

And of course, there’s also sex. No one gives a damn about privacy and nobody could care less: moans and gasps are just as common as gunshots are; people fuck like the little rabbits they are and it just _doesn’t stop_. Sex is entertainment. Sex is a way to get what you want, suck a dick here, give a handjob there and if you’re lucky you might get two grams of coke. Either way you just win something (if not the drug, then the pleasure). In a dirty world like that, people do whatever they please and whatever it takes to get what they need. Heroin addicted are the worst, they’d kill cold-blood to get their doses, they’d humiliate themselves and sell their bodies to satisfy their necessity of _more_. I speak of own experience. 

And even after 5 years of staying clean, I can’t help but feel dirty. I want to scrub, scrub and scrub myself raw, until my skin is red and blood is dyeing the shower floor, falling from angry scratches. I want to let go of my past and forget it all, but I _can’t_. When I remember all the things I did, all those things I was into and all those things I’d do _anything_ for, I can’t help but feel dirty. My outside might actually look clean, but I feel rotten inside. And it’s not something like soap or even Windex could erase (because let’s be honest, Windex is fucking awesome), and sometimes I start wondering if even _time_ could do anything to fix this. And then I see my mind wandering around, asking me if I need to be fixed. Do I? Don’t I have a great life now? Don’t I have an incredible job and money flowing out of my pockets? Didn’t I manage to stay clean for five years already? What could possible go wrong? 

My fingers unconsciously tighten around the steering wheel, the knuckles on my hand getting white. I slightly shake my head, trying to get rid of the thoughts that are currently making its way into my mind – I do _not_ want to think about it. I cannot start thinking about it. Because one thing leads to another and I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to handle it; I’ll want to get high again and forget about all these worries that surround me. There were times that I got very close to it, to simply abandon everything, and I’m never sure if it won’t happen again. And then I’m afraid to go back into my previous life style. And that’s the tiny line that bounds me to where I am and who I am right now: fear. Although I won’t admit it aloud, that’s exactly what it is, fear of being who I once was. I can’t just turn the tables and throw away the second chance Erwin had given me. I promised him I’d use it wisely. 

And I planned to fulfill my word.

With a last shake of my head, I put my full attention into the road in front of me, eventually giving the navigator some glances to check if I’m on the right way – Erwin, big boss of our modeling agency, had arranged a meeting with me and a few coworkers on this fancy restaurant ( _Le Lac de Miroir_ , if I’m correct) to talk and have something to eat while we do so. At least that’s what he said. And as far as I’m concerned, it’s all about promotion and crap; I’ve already asked Erwin why the actual fuck my presence was needed there when he could take care of everything just perfectly. But being Erwin who he was, he simply put that half assed smile on his face and told me that the presence of the vice-president was important. I say that there are much more important things than spending the day I get to go home earlier on a fucking business meeting; god be damned, I honestly want nothing more than just sink down on scalding hot water that’ll be in my tub, lean my head back and relax on _my own_. Just me, me and myself. Was it so difficult to comprehend? 

I continue driving with the low sound of one of my CDs playing on the background and before I even notice it, I had already parked my car. Oh, well, aren’t I especially focused today? Tch, fuck me sideways. A loud sigh escapes my lips and I turn my upper body to the backseats, picking my small business suitcase and suit jacket up. I give the dark blue tie I’m wearing a fast tug so it’s not wrinkled and slip myself into the black vest. I enter the restaurant on 6pm sharp, quickly finding the table where Scout Modeling Agency’s President is already sitting at, as well as some other workers, and I join them, taking the seat across from Erwin with a small nod, acknowledging everybody’s presence. They nod or wave or say a low ‘hello’ in return. We wait for another few minutes until no one’s missing and actually start doing something, at least until a waitress appears and asks us about our orders, to which I answer with what seems to be a rather popular dish. And one hour flows by and we don’t have shit done. I wipe my mouth and lean back on the chair, crossing my arms and putting an annoying expression on. Count half an hour more and everybody’s finished with eating – needless to say I’m almost standing up and walking out without a second glance back. But patience is a virtue, so I stay with my ass glued to the fucking chair and wait. And wait. They start talking about something completely random. And wait. They order dessert. And I wait. They talk about what clothes would suit our models the best for Summer Season, we being in winter currently. And I wait. The shit doesn’t go on. And my patience grows thin.

I lift my arms and rest my elbows on the table, while placing my chin on my interviewed hands, expression darkening considerably. “Would you dumb fucks actually start speaking about what we’re here for or would you rather spend the night? Last time I checked, this was a restaurant, not a hotel,” I say in a low tone that catches their attention. They shriek surprised and start taking all their papers out, much for my amusement, while Erwin sighs and mutters the usual ‘ _Language, Levi_ ’.

I roll my eyes and lean back on the restaurant’s chair, comfortably crossing one leg over the other and staring at the eleven people sitting on the table. And as predicted, they talk about themselves and give reasons for why they should be promoted. Actually, all they do is boast about their hard work. Or so called hard work, because sitting on an office desk and type all day long is definitely, oh, so hard. Or maybe it’s hard when you have another ass instead of a brain and don’t have the _decency_ of saving your reports after every 20 minutes, since our company is totally not situated on the most popular part of New York and blackouts can absolutely not happen every now and then. And of course there aren’t some little shitstains who don’t look at what they do and unintentionally kick their PC’s system unit and unintentionally unplug their wires. Of course things like this don’t happen. Because of course none of them are so dumb to the point of kicking their system unit. Of course not.

I let a loud sigh out and rub the bridge of my nose frustratingly, wishing nothing more than get the fuck out of this place. It’s already a rarity that I get to go out of work earlier, but having to spend my time on a damn meeting is pushing your luck too far. Erwin better be happy he’s my boss and I can’t simply tell him I’m not taking part on it. Because if it was otherwise, oh, god knows what I’d be doing now. Certainly not listening to a bunch of self promotions.

And so I pass the next one and a half hour signing papers that contain the profile of those Erwin chose to give promotion to. Fifteen minutes more and he’s giving us permission to leave so, yeah, congratu-fucking-lation everybody but I’m off. 

I’m out of the restaurant and in my car sooner than anyone else, putting the key on the ignition and driving away. Finally, it was about time already. I turn the heater on maximum so my balls don’t fall off (seriously, what’s with this cold? It’s only November 5th…) and make my way through the now familiar route, eventually reaching my destination, Wall Rose street. I park my car neatly on its spot and get out, quickly shoving my hands in my pockets and my head further down on my scarf. Holy shit, it was cold. And the puddles of mud on the way weren’t helping in _any_ way. Ugh, gross. 

I was about to carefully avoid them and reach the elevator when I hear a door being slammed on the opposite side of the street followed suit by a loud shout. Wow, someone must be pissed.

But, naturally, I ignore it because, 1) It’s none of my business, 2) I want to take the fucking elevator so I can get the fuck away from this cold and 3) My bathtub is a million times more interesting and inviting than someone’s tantrum. And so I extend my arm and push the button, hoping it won’t take long to the doors to open. But luck is totally not by my side today and it takes fucking _forever_ to the doors to open. Great. Just great, that’s exactly what I needed. I tap my foot unconsciously on the ground while waiting, and soon someone joins me by my side.

“No, Annie, you don’t get it! He’s terrible!” 

I recognize the voice as being the one responsible for the slamming door and the shout. I glance at the person – girl – by the corner of my eyes. Short black hair, Asian complexion, red scarf and angry expression while talking on the phone. “No- Damn, Annie, listen to me! I’m coming up, ok?” a short pause, “-what? No, no, he’s still in class, thankfully. God knows how much he already has weighing on his shoulders, he doesn’t need to see me like this.”

The elevator’s doors open and I thank whatever mighty creature it’s up there for the warmth inside the cabin. I step inside and so does Angry Girl, both of us pressing our respective floor numbers.

“Yeah, I’m okay, it wasn’t as bad as last time,” her eyes fill with water, but nothing rolls down, _thank god_ because sobbing people are really disgusting. “I-I don’t get it, Annie… I mean, he’s his own son! And it’s been like this since… - yeah, you know the story,” another short pause. “I don’t know how he handles it… It’s been only the second time for me, but he goes through this almost every day—What? No, not yet anyways.”

Okay, I admit, whoever this ‘he’ is, it’s turning my curiosity on. 

“Yeah, okay. See ya,” she says. “Hm, love you too. Bye.”

I guess I must have been staring, because as soon as she clicked the ‘End Call’ button, her eyes bore into mine with an annoying expression. If I wasn’t already so pissed off because of the meeting, perhaps I wouldn’t have glared at her with some killer intent. Oops. She visibly tried to suppress flinching, but I didn’t miss the way her eyebrows knitted together. I’m quite sure she thought I was some kind of mafia boss. Wouldn’t be a complete lie either way. It’s in times like this that I’m glad for my poker face, nobody can get a glimpse of what’s going on in my mind. I sigh for the tenth time in the past two hours and break eye contact. I was irritated, annoyed and in a clearly bad mood, so excuse me and fuck you. Happily it didn’t take long to reach her floor and Angry Girl get out, leaving me alone in the elevator fucking finally. 

A minute or two later the doors opened once again, this time to the last floor, where my apartment was suited. And literally only my apartment. It’s one of the benefits of owning the whole floor, suck it losers. 

I unlock the door and step inside, already taking my trench coat off along with my suit jacket, hanging them carefully on the hooker. Home sweet fucking home. 

Contently, I walk up to the kitchen island and place the car key on it, my wallet as well, and open the cupboard, taking a glass out and then to the pantry, taking a random red wine out. I pour some in the glass and make my way to the bathroom. I turn hot water open and take a sip of my drink while waiting the tub to fill up. When it’s almost full, I strip and enter the scalding water (not before neatly folding my clothes), and damn, it’s hot (duh, genius). But I make no move to turn cold water on. I need the burning water. I need it to wash me clean, to exterminate any hints of my past from me. If not from my mind than at least from my skin. I want to be _clean_. _I want it to go the shit away, dammit._ Some people may call this OCD, and I won’t deny the possibility, but it’s almost worse. It’s an addiction, a need to scrub it off. And for fucks sake, I know that soap and shampoo and wash lotion cannot erase the past, but they help to fool me. It’s a way to fool myself and gain control over my body. It makes me believe I’m actually clean. Not pure – never pure- but actually clean. 

It’s only a temporary feeling, obviously – after a while the nightmares start haunting me again. But I’ve long learned to deal with them and fight them down, and with two baths per day, I could easily live through my shitty life. Or life problem, if you prefer, whatever. People go to therapy sessions and I go to bath session. It’s kind of ironic.

Anyways, I decided five years ago that I’d stop looking backwards and live on, so that’s what I’ll try to do. Or rather, that’s what I’m doing. Because say whatever you want, it’s not fucking easy to get out of drug addiction. It’s not easy to leave that lifestyle behind, where all you do is get high, fuck and get money. Actually it’s a lot better than most people have at. But it ends tragically and way too soon. Once in, difficulty out. Almost never out. It’s terrifying. Thrilling, yes, but definitely scary. 

I’m just glad I managed to get out of it. Or at least I’m managing out of it.

I mentally shut myself up and continue with the so much needed relaxing bath, steam covering the mirrors surface and causing me to lean further inside the tub after taking a long sip of wine, water wetting me all up to the chin. My muscles loosen up and a satisfied grunt passes through my slightly parted lips.

Perfect.

 

 

I wake up to the incredibly loud sound of techno music. And when I say loud, I mean _loud_ , the fucking alarm clock is even shaking. I swear loudly and send Hanji a ‘Fuck you’ message, because until yesterday in was the normal and annoying-but-not-as-annoying-as-techno-music _beep, beep_ alarm; and Hanji is the only one whose mind is so fucked up to the point of waking up to the sound of this shit. And only Hanji enters and leaves my apartment as she pleases ( _don’t ask me_ , the woman has a spare key to everybody’s house. I certainly wouldn’t be surprised if she showed up tomorrow morning saying she was an secret agent for CIA). Not even two minutes later my cellphone vibrates and the screen is glowing with Hanji’s name.

**_New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 6:33am_ **  
_Goooooood mooooorning to you too, grumpy bear~!!!_

Ugh. Awfully happy as always. 

**_Message Send: 6:34am_ **  
_What’s your problem? What’s with this shitty music?_

**_New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 6:34am_ **  
_What? You don’t like it?_

**_Message Send: 6:34am_ **  
_Fucking love it._

No, sarcasm was totally not my favorite way of communication. Especially not with some crazed woman named Hanji Zoe.

**_New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 6:35am_ **  
_Ooohh, c’mon, Levi~ It’s pretty cool_

**_Message Send: 6:35am_ **  
_My ass is pretty cool. Go fuck yourself, Hanji_

**_New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 6:36am_ **  
_Well, you do have a nice ass, that’s true…_

I groan and rub my eyes. She’s impossible. Just completely and utterly impossible.

 ** _Message Send: 6:37am_**  
Change my alarm tone once more and I’ll kill you.

**_New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 6:37am_ **  
_Meh, you’re no fun..._

**_Message Send: 6:38am_ **  
_No shit, Sherlock._

I roll my eyes and place my phone on the nightstand, standing up and stretching my back and arms, making my bed close after. I take a quick shower and brush my teeth and hair. I walk to the closet with only a towel around my waist and chose another black suit for the day, accompanied by a white button up shirt and a royal blue tie. I put them on and spray a little bit of cologne on myself – reek of sweat is the last thing I need, really. Although in such a weather I doubt I’m going to sweat. But whatever.

I take my work suitcase along wallet and cellphone and walk out my apartment. While waiting for the elevator I see that Hanji texted me again. God, doesn’t she have something - _anything_ \- better to do? I check it anyway.

**_New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 7:03am_ **  
_Leviiii, wanna grab some coffee at the Titan’s?_

I blink confusedly for a brief second before answering. 

**_Message Send: 7:04am_ **  
_Hanji, the Titan’s has been closed for a whole year already. I’m not even sure if the building is still there._

**_New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 7:04am_ **  
_They opened again! It’s been open for two weeks actually, I thought you knew…_

Well, wasn’t that a pleasant surprise after all? I used to go every morning to the Titan’s to get a coffee before work, since they had the best coffee in the whole fucking city, despite the weird ass name. I have no idea why they closed, once their reputation was just incredible, but I’m not going to complain. I only hope the company didn’t change, because it’d suck if my coffee didn’t taste as _my coffee_.

 ** _Message Send: 7:06am_**  
 _Sure, I’ll be there. Give me five minutes_.

**_New Text Message: Hanji Z. – 7:06am_ **  
_Great! :D I’ll see you there than~_

I don’t give myself the trouble of answering back, so I put the deceiver on my inner pocket and walk out of the building. Once settled inside my car and with the heater on, I make a soft noise of amusement and drive off. Even though it’s been almost ten months since I took this way and drove through these streets it feels so welcoming and familiar that a small, almost unnoticeable smile paints my face and a warm feeling washes over me. It’s stupid, I know, but it’s been way _too long_. That coffee shop has a good part on my history. It’s also one of the reasons that helped me out of the underworld (but that’s a story for another time); and now that it was back, the strange feeling of home invades me. The owner of the shop was almost a motherly figure for me. A figure I never had. 

So when I park my car near the shop, I can’t help but feel happy. It’s all too familiar. The big window on the front, the inner cozy place, the round wooden tables, the comfortable lighting and the sweet smell of fresh baked brownies and strong coffee. It was as if it had never been closed. 

“Leviii!” I hear the also too familiar voice and before I can look around to search for her, I’m already being crushed on a breath taking hug. Literally breath taking. 

“God, woman! Are you trying to choke me?” I hiss, pulling her off. 

She grins and pushes her glasses up her nose. “I already paid for mine, so when you’re done, I’ll be right there,” she says enthusiastically (when was she not?) and points at a table in the corner of the shop. I nod and take my place on the line. As it’s pretty early on the morning, there’s almost nobody in the shop, and consequently only two people in front of me. I wait for about three minutes at the most and when the woman in the cashier says ‘Next’, I look up from my shoes and my face washed with recognition. And so does Angry Girl’s face. 

Yep, the same girl I stared deadly at, yesterday. Fucking awesome. 

I reset my usual stoic expression and before I get the chance to order, she snaps, “What the fuck are _you_ doing here?” and glares at me full-force. 

I raise an eyebrow. “Buying a puppy.” I deadpan and smirk inwardly as her expression darkens with annoyance. “Obviously buying coffee,” I suppress the need of adding ’brat’ on the end of the sentence. 

“What do you want?” she spats, almost disgustingly. 

“Rude, aren’t we?” I ask, eyebrow still raised. They used to have much more nicer baristas. 

“Mikasa, this is a costumer, dammit! What’s wrong with you?” another voice says, and a boy shows up from the back. He’s got a mop of brown hair, and it sincerely looks as if he didn’t put any effort on combing it, tanned skin hidden beneath a long sleeved shirt and apron, defined jawline and damn— His eyes. I swear my breath stayed stuck in the middle of my throat as I looked into the big pair of the most gorgeous turquoise eyes I’ve ever seen. Not exactly green, but not exactly blue either. And the way they shone. Fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit. I was not, absolutely _not_ staring into his weird bright eyes. 

For the second time in less than 12 hours, I’m glad for my poker face.

“Eren!” the girl – Mikasa – says, her own eyes lighting up and she sees him. “This man—”

“Did he disturb anyone in the shop?” the boy asks, cutting her off.

“Well, no, but—”

“Did he abuse of you?” Bright Eyes asks again, and I swore I could hear genuine worry behind the scolding. 

“No—”

“Then why the heck were you acting like that?”

Angry Girl looks as if she wants to retort something but she sees something on the boy that makes her keep quiet. His angry expression softens and he pats her back. “Go use a fifteen minutes break, you need it.”

She glances at me and then at him before nodding and going to the back. Eren turns to me and smiles apologetically, almost nervously. “I’m sorry for the late and the way she acted, Sir. ” 

I only stare at him and he shifts clearly uncomfortable. “So, uhm, what would you want?”

“Black coffee. No cream and no sugar.”

“Anything else I could get you, Sir?”

“If I wanted anything else I’d say, brat.”

Bright Eyes laughs softly and nods. “Then that would be $1,50, Sir.”

I hand him the money and he turns to make the damn coffee. Happily there’s no one behind me, because I’m pretty sure they’d be pissed off by long wait. 

I watch the kid (because, yes, he’s a kid; couldn’t be older than nineteen) as he prepares the coffee with surprisingly ease and contentment. As I wait for him to finish up, I notice that something about him is off. He looks somehow familiar. Actually, he looks damn familiar, because I swear I already saw the format of his eyes and shape of his face on another person. I saw those exact eyebrows on another person before. I search my brain and after a few moments I remember it. It’s no surprise he looks familiar. He looks sickening similar to her. 

“Hey, kid,” I call after him.

“Yeah?” 

“Do you know a woman named Carla?”

He freezes in place and his hands tremble lightly, the pain and sadness that flashes in his eyes so evident that I almost regret asking. But within an eye blink, it’s all gone and he smiles a small smile at me and I wonder what the fuck just happened. “Yeah, I knew her.”

The past tense doesn’t pass unnoticed by me and my brows furrow together. “Mind telling me where she is?”

“Did you know her?” he asks instead, much for my irritation. 

“Brat, _I_ asked a question first.”

The boy looks as if he couldn’t care less. The little shit.

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. I need to stop doing so, seriously; it’s becoming an annoying habit. “She was an old friend,” I say anyway. “Now answer the damn question, where’s she?”

He hesitates, but answers anyways, “She passed away last year.”

My eyes widen for a friction of second and I don’t want to believe my ears. No. That’s not possible. It’s true that I didn’t know her so well, but she was the person who provided me shelter in the worst part of my life. She was the only friend I had back then, before Erwin or Hanji. She was the one who listened to my problems and the one to incentive me to let go of the drugs. She was almost the mother I never had, dammit.

I take a deep breath, no tears form in my eyes and my expression continues impassive but I feel like a hole has been opened inside of me. “How?” I ask lowly.

Eren looks away and I can’t read his eyes anymore. “Car accident,” he whispers and I nod. He handles me my coffee and steps back ready to attend the place behind the cashier, although there’s no one waiting to order. Before he can do so I speak again. “Oi, brat.”

His eyes sparkle with something I can’t really define. Annoyance? Amusement? A mix of it? Probably. “Yeah?”

“From where did you know Carla?”

He stops doing whatever the hell it is he was doing and looks at me. The intensity of his gaze makes me feel as if he’s not looking _at_ me but _through_ me. 

“She was my mother.”

Of course.

That’s why they were fucking identical. I glance at him and nod curtly before walking away, where Hanji’s sitting, looking at me, or Eren or us, god knows what. But she was wearing _that_ expression and shit, it’s never good when she’s looking like that. 

I sit across her and make no mention to talk. 

“Sooo… What was that there?”

I shrug. “Nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing to me.”

“Bad for you, then.”

“Leviii, come oooonn~!! Tell me~!!”

“There’s nothing to tell,” because there really wasn’t. What did she want me to tell her? That the mother of some bright eyed kid I just met used to be one of closest friends and had died? No chance.

“It can’t be nothing! I saw the way you and Eren exchanged looks! What’s going on??” 

“Hanji, shut up.”

“But it’s truth!! Do you guys know each other?”

“No.”

“Then what happened? Were you flirting with the boy?”

“God, shut the fuck up, shitty glasses.”

“You were, weren’t you?”

“I just met him, for fucks sake, Hanji. Besides he’s a kid. What the hell is your problem?”

“You didn’t deny it though!”

I run a hand through my hair, exasperated. It wasn’t even 8am and I was already pissed off. Today promises to be fabulous, I can see it. Hanji continues with her verbal diarrhea and I close my eyes, completely ignoring it and asking myself how I tolerated her in first place. I decide to take a sip of my coffee and try to calm my nerves down. The day had just begun after all. And so I do. As soon as the burning liquid touches my tongue my eyes fly open and I stare at the cup in my hand. Holy shit. This wasn’t my usual black coffee from the Titan’s. I remember saying that the coffee here is the best, but this _isn’t my coffee_. Holy damn shit. Somehow, in a way I’m utterly incapable of knowing, this coffee – this cup in my hand containing this caffeinated drink – is the _best_ thing I ever drank. If I thought that the coffees I was used to were the best, than this was something godsend. The base was the same, but something there was different. Something had been added and it made it taste absolutely wonderful. I glance up from the cup and my eyes drift themselves to Eren, who’s behind the counter and looking right at me, a smile painting his features. The little fucking shit. He had put something in the coffee. And he knew I liked it. What the hell?

I narrow my eyes at him and somehow the brat only smiles wider, seeming entirely satisfied with my reaction. 

The. Little. Shit.

Fuck him very much. 

I make sure my expression in back to expressionless and stand up. Hanji looks at me curiously and I wave at her. “I’m off.”

“Oi, Levi! Wait for me!” she takes her purse and runs after me. “Hey, what’s with the sudden urge? Do you need to piss?”

I glare at her and open the café’s door. Before going out I throw a last look at the brat, who’s again looking at me, the smile still there. Fucker. 

“See you at work, shitty glasses,” I say and walk up to my car. I can’t believe the kid had the audacity of looking so amused with himself. And I can’t believe I admitted that his coffee was literally the best thing I ever drank and that I did it openly. Fucking kid.

He got himself a regular now. And the coffee better have the same taste tomorrow.

Because I was totally coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everybody who made through this first chapter!! I hope you liked it~   
> And yes, Levi and Hanji are best friends in this fic because I ship them too hard as best friends X'D


	2. Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of Eren's background story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to self: never promise when to finish a chapter. Ugh guys, I'm so sorry for the wait!! x_x  
> I've been planning on updating earlier but my tests are a pain in the ass and this chapter has been very frustranting to write T_T I'm still not entirely satisfied with it because I suck at Eren's POV and it's a totally boring chapter, although it has 5900+ words...
> 
> I swear the story won't be as boring as this chapter was, but trust me when I say that this part of Eren's POV is absolutely necessary. Next chapter we'll be back to Levi and hopefully it'll be a bit more entertaining ^^ 
> 
> And thanks for the kudos and comments on chapter , guys!! It made very happy to get them =3=
> 
> This was not beta'd, so there might be lot of grammar errors, sorry. I'll reread it later.

Do you ever get that feeling of utter tiredness? Not just feeling physically tired, but mentally exhausted too? I don’t really know how to explain myself – I’m not exactly the best with words, you know; no wonder my English teachers are always so pissed off by my essays – but it’s besides feeling drained. It’s this emptiness inside, this lifeless sensation that makes you think you have a hole in your chest and fifty kilos of solid iron weighting on each shoulder. It makes you feel as if you haven’t slept for days straight and as if every damn little activity needs your presence, no matter how silly it is – be it to simply open a jam pot or to run a marathon around the world. And it is as if the only person who can possibly resolve all of these tasks is you; there’s no one around willing to help or to ask help for. It makes you feel like shit and that’s what how I’m feeling right now. Tired. Exhausted. Drained. Empty. 

Shitty.

And it’s no surprise at all. As if attending the last year of high school isn’t difficult enough, with all upcoming exams and pressure of what we wanted to do out of our lives, there are also those _fucking douchebags_ , popularly known as Sina Gang, that did every, I repeat, _every_ little thing to piss you off. They seemed to aim for the title of ‘ _The Stupidest_ ’ and fight for the honor of being the first to annoy the hell out of you. And to better the situation, they seem fucking proud for achieving their goals. That, naturally, is one of the reasons for my extremely bad mood today. So I guess the best is if we start from the beginning. Not the very beginning because it’d take too much time and too many details I’m not ready to tell yet. No, let’s just start from the time I woke up this morning (feeling more like a zombie than the happy and bright high school student I should act like).

I was, surprisingly, having a good time sleeping until the alarm clock on the nightstand went off this morning. There were no nightmares and no crazy flashed images behind my closed eyelids, just a much needed dreamless sleep. It had been a while since I was graced with the opportunity of a peaceful night, where I wouldn’t toss around and scream at the top of my lungs. I’m pretty sure Mikasa’s glad for it as much as I am, because I tend to wake her up more than just once on nights like that. It was really good, no kidding.

But – there’s always a _but_ – the alarm clock started ringing and I was pulled out of my little personal heaven, only to groan loudly and almost punch the damn thing for waking me up. I was having a damn good sleep until now and being waken up from it just to face another fucked up day on my fucked up life wasn’t exactly my idea of fun, much less when I knew the first period would be Chemistry test. Oh, and the fact that I’m a terrible morning person doesn’t help at the least either. Perfect. Just fucking perfect. 

For a minute I debate whether or not to just bring the covers up my face and sleep for another 10 minutes before Mikasa comes in and shoves me out of the bed, but for whatever reason my still sleep hazed brain decides, I actually bring myself to move and get up. Miracles happen once in a while I guess. 

Anyways, I walk up to the wardrobe and pull it open, revealing a big lack of clothes and I curse lowly for not doing the laundry yesterday, neither the day before it. I groan and take the first thing that comes into view – a pair of dark blue jeans, green shirt and black hoodie – and make my way into the bathroom. I toss my clothes over the toilet’s closed lid and sneak out of my pajama, throwing them over the sink. I turn the shower on and don’t wait for the water to heat. God knows I need the cold water to run over me every morning so I can forget what kind of filthy person lays under this piss poor layer of skin named Eren. I laugh humorlessly and scrub soap over myself, washing my hair with coconut shampoo afterwards. I let the water run for two, three minutes more before closing the faucet and stepping out. I dry myself in a fluffy blue towel and hang it back where it was before I took it.

I reach out for my clothes, but my reflection on the mirror causes me to stop. 

I look horrible, really. My normally healthy tanned skin is paler; my freakish green-blue eyes aren’t shining as they used to one year ago and there are forming bags under them. I wander my eyesight to my chest and stomach, noticing the new dark purple marks printed on my skin along the fading ones. Fuck. Fucking fuck.

I shift my eyes away and put my clothes on, without looking at the reflecting surface again. I run my fingers through my wild hair and try, unsuccessfully, to fix it – I swear I have Earth’s most bed-ish hair ever, even though Mikasa says it’s cute. I can only scoff at that, because really, my hair is just as messed up as I am, if not more. But, well, nothing I can do about it, so I just let it pass and go on to the next task, that consists on brushing my teeth. Every day I thank my mother for obliging me on using those stupid braces when I was younger; it makes my smile look better and it helps a lot on making people believe that I’m okay. 

That’s right. All I have to do is shot them a smile and they are ready to believe me. It’s so simple that it almost amazes me, seriously. How can people be so _superficial_? How can they be so easily convincible? How can they allow to be manipulated and not even try to fight and see behind it all? If I were a hunter, people would be the easiest prey. So pathetically easy to trick.

But then, on the other hand, I’m pretty good at what I do. It’s as said, practice brings perfection. In one year, one long, painful year, I’ve learned to control and manipulate people as I please, almost as if in a puppet show. And it’s not even a little bit difficult. You flash them a smile – a smile that’s so fake you feel rotten inside –, you greet them with a cheerful voice – a voice that makes you sick to your stomach – you play friendly all along – a play that exhausts you deep to the bones – and tadaa! Congratulations, you officially succeed on brainwashing all around you and they truly believe you’re alright. 

Of course there’re those who are a little bit more of a challenge, but it’s always the same principle and eventually they melt into your act. Mikasa and Armin are the only ones who know all of it. Well, Mikasa doesn’t know _all_ of it, simply because I don’t have the guts to tell her, just trust me when I say that’s better this way. Armin knows everything because, uh, well, he’s _Armin_ , you know, super genius with psychic powers of knowing when I’m hiding something (although he affirms that’s because I’m an open book when I’m with him) and because he’s simply my best friend. Yeah, yeah, I already know the ‘ _But Mikasa’s you’re sister!’_ talk, but there are things you just _can’t_ tell your family. That’s why Armin’s there. No matter how many times I tell him to go away and let me alone with my crap he says no and waits for me to open up. Which I do after some time. He’s really a good friend and I cannot think of a reason for him to still stuck up with me.

“-ren?”

I snap myself out of my trance and turn to face the bathroom closed door in horror. Was he already awake? No, no, no! Oh my god, no, it’s only 6:30am, he can’t be awake just yet! Oh, shit, I need to get out of here, I need to—

“Eren?”

I recognize it as Mikasa’s voice, and a breath I didn’t notice I’ve been holding, escapes my lips. 

“Eren, are you in there?” she calls again.

“I—” I start with a hoarse voice, so I clear my throat and try again, “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good. Do you still have some medicine? My head’s killing me.”

“Uhm, yeah, I’ve got it. One sec.”

I finish buttoning my shirt and head out, medicine in hand. She flashes me a small smile which I return with pressing a quick kiss on her cheek. 

“Good morning, sis,” I say and give her what she asked for. She takes it with a sigh of relief. “Is it that bad?” I ask.

“Yeah… No idea why, though.”

I hum knowingly and walk past her, packing some of today’s books into my backpack. “You should eat something first, it generally helps,” I add while fumbling with the zipper of the goddamn pencil case. 

“There’s nothing ready in the fridge and I really don’t feel like cup noodles early in the morning,” she shrugs.

“I’ll make you something,” I tell her because, one: cup noodles, despite not tasting bad, sucks to no end, and two: we both know Mikasa doesn’t cook shit. No offense, Mika, you’re perfect on everything else, and I mean _really_ perfect, but cooking is just something you seem unable to do. Just stating facts. 

“You’d do that?” she asks and I don’t miss the way her eyes shine in slight surprise. We both know I avoid spending any time more than necessary in this house. 

“Of course. I don’t want you getting sick when I can do something to better the situation.”

But I can’t deny that I ignore every screaming nerve on my body telling me that I should get out of here as soon as possible. _Mikasa comes first_ I tell myself. Mikasa comes first.

I must be hiding my inner turmoil pretty well, because Mikasa gives me a full smile, which is genuinely thankful, and I can’t help the guilt forming deep in me. I should spend more time with her.

“Thanks, Eren.”

 _Don’t thank me_.

“You’re welcome, Mika. You know that.”

She nods curtly and rubs her bare foot over the other, “I’m going to take a shower in the meanwhile.”

“ ‘kay,” I agree and watch her make her way out of my room. Once she’s gone I put a pair of black socks and pray for every god I have knowledge of before stepping out of the room myself. I walk up to the living room and freeze momentarily as I see my father sitting on the couch. It’s only when I notice that he’s passed out that I manage to kind of calm my crazy beating heart down. I tip toe my way until I reach the kitchen, and it doesn’t pass unnoticeably by me the fact that there are three empty bottles of whisky laying on the floor next to the man I call dad. Fucking drunk ass man. I’m just glad he’s asleep and probably won’t be waking up any time soon. Actually, if I’d be completely honest with myself, I rather he’d never wake up again. _Ever_ again.

I shiver and close the glass door behind me, out of habit. This is another safe room for me – the kitchen, I mean. It’s the only place here in this house where I can remember her being truly happy. It’s the only place she had always liked being and the only place her eyes shone in that warm golden color. The only place she wore that wonderful smile, where she dropped all worries and concerns. The only place she seemed to fit and act completely comfortable in. I guess I got all this feelings from her. Mom loved our kitchen as much as I do, and the time I spent with her in here was definitely the best. She taught me basically everything she knew about cooking and baking, and the joy she felt while doing it was passed on to me as well. I loved cooking with her. I still love cooking. I feel like is the only thing that still connects her to me.

I feel like if I stop doing it I’ll forget her.

I don’t want to forget her.

So I didn’t drop cooking when she passed away. I surrendered into everything you can think of – depression, anger, sorrow, regret, angst, despair – and I gave up on a lot of things, but not cooking. For her sake and mostly for my own. 

It’s probably the only thing that kept me living at that time. The only thing that probably kept me from killing myself.

But sentimentalism aside, I should be doing something for Mikasa and not blabbering about my shitty problems. So I sigh and walk to the kitchen island, picking up the very familiar apron and putting it on. I decide on making some pancakes with syrup and strawberries for her, since I know Mikasa has a weak spot for strawberries, and a quick omelet for me, with tomatoes, cheese, parsley and some more spices. 

Not late after and the kitchen is already full of overwhelming scents, making my empty stomach grumble. I take a slice of cheese and stuff it into my mouth, humming appreciatively while chopping a tomato. I hear the door being open and turn around to see Mikasa sniffing the air. 

“Holy crap, this smells godsend.”

I laugh lightly and shake my head. “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” she says and looks over my shoulder. “Are you making pancakes? With strawberries?”

“Yup.”

“And all these are for me?” she asks, pointing at the stack of pancakes with a raised eyebrow. “I won’t be able to eat all of this you know.”

“You can put the rest on the fridge,” I shrug.

“No, I’ll bring it to Gramps on my way to college, I’m sure he’s going to love it.” Mikasa has already graduated, since she’s one year older than me and Armin, and as she has her own car she normally passes every morning by the Arlet’s house to check out on Gramps, even though Armin says that’s not necessary. 

So I nod. “Whatever floats your boat, sis. Do me a favor and grab an onion for me, please?”

She does as I ask and sits down on the kitchen table afterwards. I can feel her eyes on me the whole time, but I don’t question it, just keep cooking until I have everything done. It’s while I’m soaking the pancakes with syrup that she speaks up again, gaining my attention.

“You look happier.”

“Huh?” I ask, very intelligently.

“I said you look happier. While cooking I mean.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. You were even singing.”

I feel myself frowning. “I wasn’t singing.”

“You were, you just didn’t notice it.”

My brows furrow even further and I scratch the back of my neck. “I really didn’t notice… What was I singing?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of lullaby… It sounded really sad, but beautiful at the same time.”

My eyes widen for a split of second, before I smile a small smile. “I know what it was.”

Mikasa looks questioningly at me, waiting for me to continue. “ _Vogel im Käfig_. Mom used to sing it while cooking.”

“I never heard her sing it,” she states, cocking her head.

“It’s no surprise. She sang it before you were adopted, after that she simply stopped. I don’t know why, though…”

She hums lowly, still looking curious but not saying anything else. We eat mostly in silence, sometimes saying something here and there, but nothing major. When we’re done, we put the dishes on the sink and Mikasa thanks me for making her breakfast before picking the packed pancakes and waving goodbye, saying she’ll be back around 7pm. I just nod and wish her a good day, taking my own things and heading out. 

Until this point of the morning my day was good, going really smooth actually, despite the amount of depressed thoughts. It’s only as I step out of the house that Lady Luck says fuck you and gives me the finger. I swear to god I checked the weather forecast yesterday night, and I swear to god it said it’d be a cloudy day but without rain or snow. However, it must be written all over my forehead ‘ _Please make fun of this boy_ ’, and I’m not walking for three minutes before thick heavy rain drops start falling. I curse a long and loud line of profanities and a woman with an umbrella – fuck her for having a fucking umbrella – gives me a dirty look, covering her son’s ears. 

In any other situation I’d apologize, but I’m currently too busy being mad at the world’s injustice. I start running, and thank god my school is only a ten minutes-walk from home so I probably won’t arrive soaked wet for class. Probably. 

That’s when a big ass Land Rover passes by me at full speed and _of course_ there _has_ to be a puddle on the street near the sidewalk. And of fucking course the car has to pass right over it and splash it everywhere. Everywhere being specifically me. If this isn’t reason enough to be in a bad mood then I honestly don’t know what it is. But listen well, it gets better. 

With my trouser wet up to the knees and rain soaking me more with every passing second, I’m already asking myself why exactly I refused Mikasa’s suggestion of giving me a ride earlier this week. Right, because her college is exactly on the opposite direction of my school. On the other hand, she even insisted, saying that she had plenty of time before her classes started… So you’re a dumbass, Jaeger. Plain and simple.

I shake my head frustratingly, making my legs run faster. It’s three more minutes and I’m finally making my way through the school’s gate. I see Armin waiting for me on the corridor as usual, his own blond hair dropping wet. As he sees me he waves enthusiastically and places a few strands of his bangs behind his ear.

“Hey, Eren!” he greets me with the typical smile on his face and I can’t help but genuinely smile back at him. Armin has this weird talent of making my sour mood go down the drain in a question of seconds and sometimes it freaks me out. But whatever, it’s not like I’m complaining.

“Hey, Armin! Got caught in the rain either?”

“You bet,” he grinned sheepishly, “Did you study for Chemistry?”

“What do you think?”

“That you didn’t.”

“Wow, the amount of faith you have in me is astounding,” I roll my eyes.

“That’s called being realistic, moron. So, did you?”

I look away, my bad mood returning slightly. “No.”

“Eren, you promised me you’d at least try to.”

“I know and I’m sorry. Didn’t have time.”

Armin’s quiet for a moment, studying me with calculating eyes and I try to maintain my face expressionless, but he sees right through it like always. “Your dad?”

I mentally slap myself for flinching at the mention of my old man and Armin doesn’t miss a thing. His face goes livid and he passes his fingers through his hair, closing his blue eyes. “Shit.”

Damn right, shit. He reopens his eyes and behind the layer of momentary rage there’s an ocean of worry and concern and it makes me sick to think Armin has to deal with my stupid problems. He deserves much more than a broken person like me as a friend. 

“Eren, what happened? Did he hurt you again?”

“It’s nothing,” I mutter, feeling the rest of my bad mood return completely. 

“Eren, tell me. Please.”

“Armin, not now. Just-… not now okay?”

“But that’s sick, Eren! He’s your own fa—”

“I know, dammit! I fucking know it, okay?! You don’t have to remind me every time that that monster is my fucking father, Armin!!” I shout, cutting him off mid-sentence and glaring angrily at him. Some people turn to look at us, surprised with my sudden outburst but I promptly ignore them. All I can see is the silent shock in those light blue eyes; the hurt they’re expressing and the regret in them. And I feel like kicking myself to death for opening my big mouth.

“Fuck! Armin, damn I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you! Argh, fuck my life, you were only trying to help and I fucked up! Shit, I’m sorry, Armin, I didn’t mean to—”

“Eren, it’s okay, really. I shouldn’t have pressured you either. Just… just make sure to tell me when something like this happens again, alright? You know you’re always welcome to stay with me and gramps.”

I feel like shit. Armin is a perfect boy, why does he even _try_ to keep up with me and my morbid life? He could do so much better. He could have a decent best friend who doesn’t treat him like shit and actually makes him happy. I clench my fists. I love Armin, I really do, but maybe he’d be better without me in his life.

“Thanks, Armin. I-… I’m sorry I snapped at you, okay? It was never my never my intention and you’re a really awesome friend and you don’t deserve a fucked up person like me as your friend because you—”

“Eren,” he says, interrupting my rushed blabbering in a soft tone.

“Ye-yeah?”

“Don’t apologize, okay? I know what you’re passing through and I really don’t want you to apologize for me when you’re living in a wreck. Sometimes you just need to let things out.”

“Yeah, but not at you!”

He smiles up at me and I feel a knot in the middle of my throat. “Eren, it’s alright. I’m here for that. That’s what best friends are for, right? I know you’d do the same.”

I bite the inner part of my mouth to keep the tears from coming up to my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I choke out and look directly into his eyes, trying to show him I’m really sorry and thankful at the same time. Armin’s gaze softens even more and he puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it lightly. 

“Don’t be. And Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay with me and gramps tonight, okay?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I’m not letting you go back to that hellhole any time soon, Eren.”

“You don’t get it, Armin; it gets worse when I’m out for too long.”

“Why don’t you call the cops already, Eren?” he asks me, but it’s more a rhetorical question than anything more, because he knows _exactly_ why I don’t call the cops. 

Even so I shake my head and start walking towards our class room. “You know I can’t do that, Armin; you know what he’ll do if I call them.”

Armin sighs, his hands holding his backpack so tightly that his knuckles turn white. “I don’t like this, Eren. I can’t even think about it without getting sick.”

“I know. I hate it too.”

He’s silent for a few seconds and I feel his eyes on me, although I don’t make a move to acknowledge it. I feel how he pities me and I hate it. I don’t need people pitying me, I don’t need people looking at me as if I’m some kind of lost puppy with nowhere to return to. I grit my jaw and try to swallow the awful feeling. 

“Eren.”

I turn my head to look at him, only to see he’s looking straight forward, an unreadable expression painted on his face. I frown in confusion. “What?” 

“Meet me in the bathroom after the test, alright?”

“Huh? What for?”

“Just meet me there,” he says and then flashes me a smile. 

“…Okay?”

He nods apparently satisfied and starts talking about something completely random. I’m left curious and confused, but soon enough I’m laughing with him about some stupid joke he heard from Connie. 

We reach the classroom and keep talking until the bell rings and the teacher comes in, greeting us good (?) morning and telling – more like demanding – us to take our seats.

“Good luck,” Armin whispers and I roll my eyes because luck has long ago abandoned me. 

Mr.Shadis smiles darkly, handing us the test paper and I don’t even have to look at it to know I’m screwed. 

Fifty minutes pass by an eye blink and he’s already collecting our tests. I don’t make any effort to remember what I wrote on the paper sheet since I know it’s useless and I already failed the subject. The worst thing is that I couldn’t care less. I sigh, resting my head in my hands, and look out of the window. It’s still cloudy and raining and I feel like the water is not only washing the world outside but all of my energy either. 

I turn on my seat to talk to Armin when I remember I’m supposed to meet him at the bathroom. Right. I ask permission to leave the classroom since our next teacher has already entered and make my way to the bathroom. Just as I’m about to open the door Jean fucking Kirschtein comes out, nearly bumping into me. “Oi, _Jaeger_ , watch it!”

“Fancy seeing you too, _Kirschtein_.” I replay dryly. 

“Wow, rude.”

“Actually I was being pretty nice.”

“Yeah, right, Eren Jaeger being nice, good joke.”

I groan and rub the bridge of my nose, already feeling the upcoming headache. “Piss off, Jean.”

“Shut up, Jaeger. And by the way, how’s your hot sister doing?”

I can literally feel a vein popping up on my forehead. How _dare_ he speak with that filthy mouth of his about Mikasa? I have the urge of punching him right on the stomach, but refrain myself from doing so – a meeting with the directory is the last thing I need today, really.

“ _Mikasa_ is doing a lot better now that she doesn’t have to see your ugly horse face every day, thanks for your concern, though,” I say, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

“Hey, easy there, bro. I was just asking.”

“Yeah, well, wash your mouth with soap before talking about her like that.”

“Jesus, you sound just like my mom while scolding me, fucking annoying if you wanna know.”

“At least you have a mother to annoy you, Jean.”

Jean’s whole mocking expression drops and regret paints his features, and it suddenly makes me feel a thousand times shittier than I was before. First Armin and now Jean. Awesome Eren, really great.

I admit I don’t have the best of the relationships with Jean; we fight a lot and we argue a lot and we totally don’t go along with each other faces, but we’re friends nonetheless. It doesn't matter if he’s a first class idiot or a fucking annoying horse faced bastard, he’s still – for some reason I’m unaware of – my friend. And one of the few who know that my life is not exactly perfect. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, dude, I really didn’t mean to say anything like that.”

“Jean, stop, it’s fine. I’m not feeling well today either, so… ugh, yeah, I’m sorry too.” Sometimes it amazes me how wonderful my capability of forming sentences is. Smoother’s impossible. 

Jean stays awkwardly there, looking at his shoes before his pride gets the best out of him and he lifts his gaze and puffs his chest, saying to me “Well, now that we’re good again, excuse my honorable presence, I have class to attend.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, and I wouldn’t give him one even if he asked for it, and starts walking away. I shake my head and pull the bathroom’s door open and getting inside. Armin’s already there, fumbling with his phone and scowling lowly, and as he sees me, he smiles and tells me to come nearer. 

“So, what did you want?”

“I need you to take your shirt off, Eren.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” if I had been drinking something I’m certain I’d have spilled it everywhere. Sweet and innocent Armin was asking me to take my shirt off??

“What’s wrong about— Oh my god, Eren!! What the hell? It’s nothing like that!”

I raise an eyebrow and look directly into his eyes. “No? It certainly sounded inviting for me.”

Armin’s face goes entirely red and he starts stuttering something I don’t get, but it doesn’t keep me from laughing out loud. It’s way too fun to fool around with him and Armin’s a ridiculously easy target. Then again, it’s only me and a few close friends that are allowed to play with him like this, since we mean absolutely no harm by it – anyone else and I’d kick their asses, and believe me, I’ve already done so before and wouldn’t hesitate on doing it again. 

Anyways, at the sound of my laughter Armin’s head peeks up and even if his cheeks and ears are still tomato red, he cracks a tiny smile that makes me stop laughing almost completely and warmly smile back. 

“So, why do you need me half naked?”

“Shirtless, not half naked!”

“You realize that’s the same thing, don’t you?” I ask, raising my eyebrow once more.

“Of course I know they’re the same thing!” he says defensively, the blush on his cheeks making no move to fade.

“Armin, are you okay? You’re making no sense.”

“Ugh, spending time with you must be killing my brain cells,” he whines and I make a strangled noise.

“I’m so very offended.”

“Serves you right, dumbass,” he retorts and chuckles while I whisper something along the lines of ‘I’m not a dumbass’ and ‘You’re mean’. He shakes his head and points at me, “Now, Eren, shirt off.”

“I’m still asking myself why.”

“Someone must look at your wounds,” he states simply and takes off his pocket an ointment I don’t recognize. I twist my nose at it and fold my arms over my chest, unmoving. 

“I don’t need you to baby me, Armin. I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can, Eren. Now, do me a favor and collaborate.”

“If I was feeling bad I’d go to the infirmary.”

“Like hell you would.”

“Armin, just drop it.”

“No. Now, _please_ Eren, take your shirt off and show me your bruises. Is the least I can do.”

“You’ve done more than enough.”

“Well, I feel like I’ve done nothing at all. Just accept it when someone’s offering to help you, Eren. Try to understand that there are people who care.”

_Try to understand that there are people who care._

People who care, huh? I can’t remember anyone beside him and Mikasa who care. I honestly cannot remember anyone who helped me get up on my feet when my mother died. What I remember is that I was alone and cold. What I remember is being left on my own to deal with my father and my inner monsters. 

What I remember is being angry, scared and desperate.

There was never someone who cared, Armin.

_I never allowed anyone to care. I shut everybody down._

_I’m afraid of losing someone again._

_Is that so hard to understand?_

A shiver runs down my spine and I brace myself tighter. 

“I don’t want someone to care, Armin.”

It’s barely a whisper but I’m sure he heard it, because suddenly his arms are around me, pushing me into an onesided hug, making me rest my head against his chest while his hands tighten into my hair and his chin rests atop it. He doesn’t say anything while I sob at his shoulder and grip on his pullover as if the world’s about to end, and I’m thankful for it. He just hears me out, hears as I cry about my fucked up life and my fucked up father. He doesn’t comment when I tell him I’m tired of my life and I’m tired of crying. He just sits down on the floor and pulls me over his lap, never letting go off me, never telling me to let go off him. 

I don’t know how long we sit there, missing hour after hour, lesson after lesson, but eventually I stop sobbing and he’s mindlessly caressing my hair. I listen to the steady beat of his heart and wonder if mine will ever beat as calmly as his. I hope it will. I’m tired of having it beating either frantically or not beating at all. I’m tired of being an ambulant mess.

“Armin?” I whisper, because I’m not sure I can trust my voice just yet.

“Yeah?” he whispers back, his hand stilling its movements.

“Thanks,” I don’t argue nor do I apologize. I simply thank him.

For a moment he doesn’t answer and I begin to think the worst, but then he’s pushing me back and searching for my eyes. “You’re welcome,” is what he says once our gazes are locked together. 

I nod and push back completely, suddenly embarrassed for my break down. “Don’t tell Mikasa, okay?”

“Wasn’t planning to,” he smiles and I sigh relived. 

Since I made such a show, I decide on giving up being a little bitch and let him handle my bruises, applying the ointment over the purplish/yellowish marks on my upper body. As Armin sees them, he’s clearly shocked and angry, but doesn’t say anything, opting instead for gritting his teeth. 

When he’s done I put my shirt and hoodie back on and thank him once more. Armin waves it off and smiles at me, saying if anything happens again, I must tell him. I agree, but deep down I know it’s an empty promise. 

Before walking out of the bathroom, Armin turns to look at me. “It’s going to be okay, Eren,” he doesn’t smile, but his eyes are soft as is his whole expression. And then he’s gone.

Is it really? I can only stare at the closed door but without seeing it. 

I want to believe his words but I don’t know how.

I’ve long learned not to believe anyone after all.

 

 

I’m walking out of the school’s building late that afternoon, not because I stayed to study, but because I avoid going home for as long as I can. The rain finally gave a truce so I can just wander around a little before making my way back. 

I’m quietly walking around a corner when my phone vibrates. I take it off my pocket and see two incoming messages.

**_New Text Message: Mikasa – 17:42pm_ **  
_Hey. Are you coming to the Titan’s today? Sasha’s ill and couldn’t fill in for her shift, so I offered to instead. Just wondering if you’d pass by._

**_New Text Message: Grisha J. – 17:42pm_ **  
_Where are you? Get back here right now, you piece of shit._

I shudder and delete his message without a second thought.

**_Message Send: 17:44pm_ **  
_Hey, sis. I’m definitely coming. C ya._

Putting my phone into my pocket again, I rub my hands together trying to keep them somewhat warm and pull the hood over my head. I walk forward, my feet bringing me automatically to the all familiar coffee shop. 

Before entering, however, I stop and look up at the gray sky above me, his words ringing in my ears, like an undying echo.

‘ _It’s going to be okay, Eren._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you it'd be boring T.T
> 
> And yes, I totally ship Eren and Armin as best friends. I love how they take care of each other and how Armin is afraid for Eren. My adorable little babies QAQ
> 
> Also, I'm sorry if you think Eren's OOC, but I need him like this at least for now. His mother died one year ago and his father is shitty, how'd you expect him to act? Certainly not happy and encouraged. Please try to understand it before criticizing.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading it until the end!! I really appreciate it :3


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